She thrust out with her left hand, blade tip leading, and all I could do was fall back to my left and skip away. I felt the rush of air as the dagger swept past my head, felt the tiny prick of pain, felt the little drop of warm liquid dripping from the nick on my ear.
I hopped back a few steps, settling again into my defensive pose; again, she did not press.
“I suppose I’m feeling a bit better now,” she said. Her eyes were still icy cold as she crept forward, her daggers at the ready.
“You’re about to feel a lot worse,” I said.
I would not let her lead again. As she approached, I thrust out, once, twice, and again, short jabs that did not come close to hitting the mark. But neither did she get close enough to attack me.
But I could keep her at bay for only so long like that. My sword was light, but still heavier than her daggers. I was expending more energy than she, and I would surely tire faster.
She knew it too, and she allowed me my simple attack routines.
I jabbed again, a short stab from my elbow, my body staying still and in balance. Joen shifted her weight, staying out of my reach, her daggers at the ready but a parry not necessary. I started to repeat the motion, but planned to push off with my back leg, drop my trailing arm, and fully extend my sword arm. I would reach out fully three feet farther than the short jab, and the whole move would take only a fraction of a second longer. I would catch her completely off guard.
But I hesitated. Could I really hurt her? Could I really kill Joen?
My body reacted when my mind could not, and I did indeed attack, but there was little strength behind my lunge. And Joen was not surprised by the move at all, anyway. She dropped into a crouch, bringing both daggers up in a cross, catching the bottom of my blade and driving it up.
Before I could retract, she pushed off with her legs from her deep crouch directly at me. She kept her right hand up, her dagger holding my sword at bay; her left she thrust forward, tip leading, right for my chest.
I brought my trailing left arm around in desperation, and only through some luck did I manage to contact her thrusting arm and drive it aside.
But she still had a vastly superior position to mine. She brought her right hand in, and though I found my sword free, once again she was far too close for me to use it effectively.
Instead, I bulled ahead before she could line up her strikes. I shoved my left forearm into her chest and pushed off with all my might.
She brought both her daggers in from the sides. I felt them hit me, but she was falling backwards and there was no strength in the swings. They did not even cut through my tunic.
She let herself fall, rolling backwards with perfect grace, then coming to her feet and skipping back another step, out of my reach once more.
I took a breath. “You fight well,” I said.
“That makes one of us.”
“For a girl,” I finished.
“Still just one of us.”
I growled and took a step forward, ready to strike, but stopped short. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Are you really trying to kill me?”
She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it, shaking her head.
“Answer—” Before I could finish, she rushed forward again. She swung her arms as one, both blades moving at the same time, in the same direction, barely an inch apart. As she swung her swords, she moved her body the opposite direction. If she hit my blade, she would drive it away from herself, and she would be upon me in an instant.
I stepped back furiously, trying to keep her weaving dance in front of me, trying to keep my sword between us.
I managed five steps, then my rear foot hit something solid.
The rail. I had run out of room. I had no retreat; and I did not know how to defend her attack.
So I didn’t try. I swept my sword out, horizontal at eye level, the fine saber edge leading. Joen ducked, bringing her blades up to deflect and ensnare my sword.
But the slash was only a feint. The real attack was my body. I pushed off from the rail with all my might, colliding with her and driving her backward. I kept my legs pumping, kept pushing, preventing her from bringing her daggers to bear.
I pressed her straight back, across the deck, into the base of the mainmast. We crashed into the solid wood hard. I felt her breath leave her body. The daggers fell from her limp hands.
I stumbled back a step, dazed. Joen stayed with me, wrapping her arms around me for balance.
She buried her head in my shoulder, coughing and crying. I could not tell if the tears were from physical pain or some emotion.
I did not ask.
All I could do was let my own sword fall from my hand, and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was going to … I wanted to … I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I forgive you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The blizzard grew worse. The wind swirled and caught the sails of the two ships, twisting them one way or the other. Their fouled riggings groaned in protest.
Waves pulled the ships apart then slammed them back together again and again, deck to deck, with a great jarring impact and a crash that resounded like thunder.
Most of the crew of both ships were aboard Lady Luck. The pirate crew—outnumbered, captainless, facing a better armed and better trained crew—had surrendered, but the crew of Sea Sprite did not dare cross back to their own ship in that weather. Nor did anyone dare climb the masts to untangle the lines. Aboard Lady Luck, all of the men of both crews vanished belowdecks, evidently intending to ride out the storm in warmer quarters. Aboard Sea Sprite, two remained above.
Joen had settled in next to me. The pair of us rested against the mainmast, Perrault’s magical cloak wrapped around us. While I wore it, the cloak never seemed especially large; it did not billow nor drag on the ground. But covering myself and Joen it seemed more a blanket than a cloak, and it wrapped around us both completely, a warm cocoon against the wind and the blowing snow.
Our ship looked terrible. The rail was broken in many places. Scorch marks scarred the deck near the catapult and on the mainmast. And our rigging was hopelessly tangled with that of the ship across the narrow stretch of water. But Lady Luck looked even worse. She listed steeply toward our portside as wave after wave rolled beneath her.
Joen’s breathing had steadied, then slowed. At first it had frightened me, but when she nestled her head into my shoulder and snored loudly, I realized she had simply drifted off to sleep. I would have gladly followed her, but I told myself that if we both slept, I would lose my grip on the hem of the cloak, and the cloak would fall wide open to the furious elements. So I stayed awake, one hand holding the cloak closed, the other gripping, through the cloak’s fabric, a rope tied around the mast. Joen could have her rest, I decided. I would protect her while she slept.
Besides, I had no idea where I would put my hands if I did not have something useful to do with them. I flushed red and shifted uncomfortably.
Joen stirred and looked up at me. Even in the fading light her eyes shone, emeralds boring into me. She could see what I was thinking, I knew it. She was about to toss off the cloak and storm off the deck.
But she did not. She merely gave me a curious smile, and wrapped her arms around my waist. Her arms were thin but strong, and her grip was tight as she pulled herself closer. She felt warm beside me, and I was grateful for it. I let go of the rope on the mast and put my arm around her shoulders, my hand resting awkwardly against her side. She did not seem to mind. She put her head down again on my shoulder, and a few moments later she was fast asleep.
I know not how long I stayed awake. Even as I dozed my dreams were filled with images of the here and now. The storm blew snow across the deck, falling in piles only to be shaken off again. The wind howled, and wood crashed against wood. And screams—real or imagined—echoed across the waves. Joen slept on my shoulder, her arms wrapped around me.
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When I woke in the morning, it took me a good while to realize that I was indeed awake, and that the pair of polished black boots on the deck in front of me were indeed real.
“Look alive, sailors,” Captain Deudermont said.
Joen and I both started. She jumped to her feet. But my cloak caught my ankles as I rose, and I tumbled back to the deck.
At that precise moment, the ship gave a mighty lurch. I skidded toward the broken rail on our starboard side, nearest Lady Luck. I could see a great hole in her hull just at the water line. I thought I saw a flicker of movement beyond the hole, but could not discern what it was before another wave rolled up against her, covering the hole. Sea Sprite gave another lurch beneath me. I grasped at the planks of the deck to prevent myself from sliding yet farther.
One man stood on Lady Luck’s rail—quite literally. Robillard rode the rail itself, seeming unfazed by the ship’s sharp motion. He simply went about his business, waving his hands in some arcane gesture, mumbling some chant, and tossing what looked like blue ropes toward Sea Sprite.
The ropes stretched above the water and grabbed Sea Sprite’s rail. Some tied themselves there. Some grabbed the already-set lines and tied across. A net of sorts formed before my eyes.
Behind me, Captain Deudermont tapped his foot. I allowed myself to skid all the way to the rail. There I leaned against it to stand, and walked unsteadily across the deck.
I took my place beside Joen, who stood at attention in front of the man who was not her captain.
“You’ll need better balance than that, Maimun, if you want to be a sailor,” Captain Deudermont said.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” I mumbled.
“As soon as Robillard has finished his work, you’re going up the mast. We need to get untangled.”
I swallowed. “Yes, sir. But why now?” Though the storm had given up much of its rage in the night, the winds still swirled around us. The last thing I wanted to do was to climb back up the mast. I pointed to the dark clouds above us. “Why not wait for the storm to blow out?”
Joen gave me a startled look, but only for a second; clearly, she did not think it wise to question the captain’s orders.
I thought I caught a little smile flash over Deudermont’s face. But when he spoke, he looked directly at Joen.
“Lady Luck is sinking,” he said. Joen did not flinch. “We need to untangle, or she’ll take us down with her.”
“Yes, sir,” I said for the third time.
“And you,” he said, addressing Joen. “Did I not see you in the crow’s nest aboard the other ship?”
“The gull’s nest, aye, sir. That’s my post, eh?”
I felt a strange elation climbing in my chest. Deudermont was sending Joen up the mast with me! My fear vanished. I knew there would be a lot of tough work. I knew there would be the ever-present danger of a fall, a danger made more keen by the blowing wind and the swaying of the ships. But working near Joen was worth any danger.
“Well then,” the captain said to me, “you have another job before you climb the mast.”
I hesitated a second, sorting out Deudermont’s words. “I do, sir?” I asked.
“Yes. First you’ll escort this young woman to our brig.”
“But, sir, she’s not a pirate,” I said.
“And you’ll not question your orders. Now get to it.” With that, the captain turned and walked away.
Beside me, Joen chuckled. “Don’t look so stunned, eh? Soon as he recognized me, I knew I’d be going below. Be a fool to think anything else.”
“Well, I’m a fool then,” I muttered.
She just laughed. “Oi, course you’re a fool. Probably thought he’d be sending me up into the rigging with you, didn’t you? Don’t be a disobedient fool, though, he won’t much like that, will he?” She started to walk to the hatch that led down to the hold, still chuckling.
I followed a few paces behind her.
“Oi, ain’t you supposed to be escorting me to the brig?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.
“Ain’t that what I’m doing, eh?” I replied, doing my best to imitate her accent. I was so happy to have her here, safe aboard Sea Sprite, that I couldn’t help but joke a little.
“Then why am I walking in front?”
“Prisoners always walk in front,” I quipped.
“Oh, yeah, right, so they can’t stab the guard in the back, eh? You figure I’m gonna try and stab you?” She laughed, but her laugh turned into a painful cough. She stopped walking and doubled over, clutching at her chest.
“I think you already tried to stab me,” I said. “And you got that cough instead.”
Joen glared up at me, her eyes burning behind the veil of her hair. “That ain’t funny,” she said, her voice stern.
“It wasn’t so funny when you cut my ear, either.” I said, matching her tone.
Slowly she straightened, standing tall and proud, not looking away. The intensity of her stare was intimidating, and it was all I could do to maintain eye contact. But I would not look away.
“Prisoners walk in front,” I growled, motioning toward the hatch.
She did not say another word all the way to the brig.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Half a dozen of us took to the masts a short while later. Three Sea Sprite sailors accustomed to working in the rigging climbed up from each deck. There was almost no activity beneath us. Only Robillard stood on deck, or rather sat, looking quite comfortable on the sterncastle of Lady Luck, his feet dangling over the rail. His magical net stretched between the two ships. It looked solid despite the fact that it was formed of what appeared to be tendrils of blue light. As the ships pulled apart, the net stretched, but the gaps did not seem to grow. As the ships crashed together once again, the net swelled upward, as if a breeze from below had caught a bit of fabric and made it billow. There was no way for someone to fall through, I hoped.
Soon after we had reached the fouled riggings, it seemed the gods decided we should not be allowed to escape our fates.
The wind blew steadily and with such force that it was all I could do to maintain a grip on the ropes. Up here, so high above the deck, the air was much colder, and with the wind whipping about there was no way I could keep Perrault’s cloak wrapped around me. I felt the stinging burn of the cold and the numbness of frostbite creeping into my fingertips. It was a welcome relief from the other numbness, which had nearly disappeared.
I did not complain. Instead I let my anger warm me. At first it was simply a vague sense of anger, a hatred of the way things had been for as long as I could remember. But then my anger found focus. First at Asbeel, who had stolen so much from me; then at Chrysaor, the blue-skinned pirate captain, who had led me so far astray only to disappear. Then at Deudermont, my captain, who had locked up Joen when he should have been sending her up here to work with me.
And there my anger found a home: Joen.
She had attacked me, had cut my ear. It still stung quite a bit, especially in the cold. Then she had called me a fool, and refused my orders. And that was just since sunrise!
I lay my torso down on a thin crossbeam. My feet braced against the mast, and my arms reached out for a tangle of rigging. As Lady Luck was sinking anyway, our orders were not so much to untangle the ships, as to free Sea Sprite from the burden of the crippled vessel. At each point of entanglement, I would seek the lines that belonged to the pirate vessel and cut them loose, then move on to the next point I could reach.
The whole journey had been for Joen, I realized. I had told myself I was seeking the stone, but it was a lie. I had never really believed we’d get any information from Chrysaor. I should have gone with Drizzt to see Malchor Harpell. He would have pointed me in the right direction.
My hand snaked down a line of rigging from Lady Luck.
But instead I had followed Joen out to sea, to save her from the pirate crew she had willingly joined. And after I had saved her, all she could do was laugh at me and call me
a fool.
I sliced through the rigging with such force, I nearly sent my dagger down with the falling rope. Again, I located a line, and again I tore through it. At each line I found a new reason to vent my rage.
I was still lying on the thin wooden crossbeams, when I felt something graze the back of my head. It felt like someone wearing a heavy cloak had walked past me, and the cloak had brushed against me. My heart beat a little faster.
I tried to turn, but I couldn’t twist around from my already-precarious position without risking a fall. So instead I had to pull myself back to the mast, then straighten up. In the time it took me to reestablish myself, whatever had hit me had disappeared.
It must have been a loose line, I forced myself to think. Again I moved out along the beam, making sure my position was more secure, and I could turn around if needed. Sure enough, after a minute I felt something. It was not so much contact as something rushing past my head.
I turned quickly, but saw nothing.
I squinted. A tiny black shape spiraled in the distance. But it remained indistinct, blurred by the blowing snow, its dark shape uncertain against the equally dark midday sky. It was too small to be Asbeel. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.
I watched the shape move, graceful and smooth. It seemed equally at home riding a gust of wind or cutting right through one. The air suddenly cleared, the storm giving us a reprieve, and the speck flew back to the mast.
I gasped and very nearly lost my perch. A raven!
I knew it could be no ordinary raven, for no ordinary bird would brave the weather, and a raven would never be so far out at sea.
The bird alighted on the crossbeam in front of me and stared into my eyes. It was the same bird I had seen in Memnon. What on Toril was it doing here?
Its chest puffed out proudly, the bird opened its beak.
The Shadowmask: Stone of Tymora, Book II Page 10
